


He Must Be Out of Food

by lipah



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Cat Stiles, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Like Stiles gets turned into a cat by a witch, Like a real cat, M/M, Not a werecat or anything, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 22:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12156201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipah/pseuds/lipah
Summary: Stiles gets turned into a normal house cat by a witch and Derek takes care of him until they can fix it.





	He Must Be Out of Food

The last witch came at them too quickly, arms raised, with her stupid wand in her hand. She hadn't managed to actually hit anyone yet, and the rest of the coven were dead or had run. Derek saw Stiles move toward the witch, but he was too far away. They were all too far apart; no one would be able to reach him fast enough. Stiles jumped at the witch, but she spun around, shouted something and fired a blast of magic at Stiles. Jackson was on her next, tackling her to the ground, and where Stiles had been a second before was smoke. Scott and Derek got to the smoke, and as it cleared away they could see Stiles' clothing on the ground. Inside was something small, wiggling desperately to get free from the mess of fabric. Derek leant forward, reaching for the shirt and tugging it away to reveal... a cat. A solid black cat, that had wide amber eyes, and ears that were too big for its face. Scott lunged for it, as the animal tensed and tried to bolt in the other direction. "Stiles! Stay still!" Scott shouted, but all Derek could do was stare at Scott.

 

"The witch got away," Erica said from behind him. "But you caught her cat? Oh! Is it a familiar?"

 

"It's Stiles," Scott said.

 

"What? No way!" Erica said, pushing past Derek to look at the cat. As soon as she was close enough, the black cat hissed and frantically pulled itself from Scott's grip. It hit the group with a thump, ran away from Erica, and crashed headlong into Derek's legs.

 

"Derek, grab him!" Scott shouted, and even though he was still a little shocked, he grabbed the cat. The cat stared up at Derek's face, which seemed to calm it down, and then settled in his arms.

 

"Of course, he likes Derek best," Erica said rolling her eyes.

 

"Is that really Stiles?" Jackson asked, getting up close to the cat. The animal tensed in Derek's arms hissed loudly again and swatted Jackson across the face. Jackson shouted, jumped back, and glared as the claw marks on his face healed.

 

"Obviously," Erica said, putting her hands on her hips. "We should get back to the loft, I'm sure Lydia can figure out how to fix him." Scott gathered the rest of Stiles clothing, and they headed back. Derek couldn't even bring himself to say anything, just stared at the cat like he'd never seen one before. But... the cat _did_ smell like Stiles, even through the new smell of cat, his scent was still there. Too strong to have just come from the clothing the cat had been stuck in. At the loft, Derek set Stiles down on the kitchen table, and Lydia stared at it. Derek expected Stiles to head over to her, cuddle up, and wait to be fixed. He didn't, instead, he sat in front of Derek, looking up at him and then around the loft.

 

"He's a cat," Lydia said.

 

"He ran at the witch," Derek said.

 

"Stiles," Lydia said softly and then she sighed. "Okay, I'll look into what level of magic is required to do this, and how to fix it. I'll call Deaton too, and then let you know what I find. You need to call his dad and tell him what happened and that Stiles is staying here."

 

"Staying here?" Derek asked.

 

"We can't send him to him home," Scott said. "He's gotta be supervised, what if he turns back? You're the only one who works from home."

 

"I don't know how to take care of a cat," Derek snapped. "You make more sense, Scott."

 

"Mum's allergic," Scott said and shrugged his shoulders. "But, I can get some cat supplies from Deaton. Litter box, litter, food... stuff like that."

 

"I don't think--"

 

"No one else can take him," Jackson snapped.

 

"Plus, he likes you best," Erica said, wiggling her fingers at the cat. Derek looked down at Stiles again, he was looking up at him with his big amber eyes, and Derek felt his resolve crumble.

 

"Fine," Derek mumbled.

 

"Thanks, Alpha," Erica said, pressing a kiss to Derek's cheek. Weakest Alpha ever, Derek thought bitterly, as the pack left the loft. Scott came back once later that night, to give Derek the cat supplies he had promised, and then he was gone again. Leaving Derek alone with Stiles, who had taken to creeping through the loft, checking out all the small places he couldn't fit when he was human. Part of Derek still didn't want to believe this cat was Stiles at all; he wanted to believe that he had been magicked away, and this was just some random cat. Except... except it had Stiles' eyes and no matter how long the cat was away from Stiles' clothing, it still smelt like Stiles. Derek watched the cat for a minute, before finally taking his phone and calling John.

 

"Derek," he answered.

 

"Evening Sir, it's about Stiles," he said.

 

"Always is," John said, sounding unsurprised and a little tired.

 

"He's been... turned into a cat," Derek said, watching Stiles jumped onto the kitchen table and sniff at a book.

 

"A... cat?"

 

"Yes sir," Derek said.

 

"Is this fixable? Or am I down a child?"

 

"We're looking into how to fix it," Derek answered.

 

"Need me to come get him?"

 

"The pack thinks it will be best if I watch him," Derek answered. "Scott's already dropped off the supplies, and so far he hasn't reacted well to anybody. I also don't have to be anywhere, so I can keep an eye on him."

 

"Well, thanks for the update, call me if I need to panic," John said, sounding way more relaxed than Derek thought made sense.

 

"Of course," Derek answered.

 

"Don't worry too much, Derek. Stiles always gets into trouble, this is just a different kind," John said. "Have a good night." Then he was gone, and Derek was left to stare at his phone. Stiles chirped from the table, making Derek look at him again.

 

"You're probably hungry," Derek said. He gathered the things Scott had brought, filling a bowl with dry food that smelled awful, and the second bowl with water. Stiles didn't seem to mind the food, shoving his whole face into the bowl, and gulping down mouthful after mouthful of food. "Slow down," Derek snapped, but Stiles ignored him in favour of emptying the bowl. There was about half a second, between Stiles inhaling the last piece of food, and a loud violent retching sound as he threw it all back up again. Stiles plastered his ears to his head and scrambled backwards away from the vomit. He hid behind Derek's legs, glaring toward the vomit as if some kind of monster had just pulled the food from his stomach. Derek took a slow breath in, trying to ease the annoying ache that had formed in his chest, and then went about cleaning up. He refilled the food bowl and was glad when Stiles seemed more interested in the water this time.  Derek sighed and collapsed onto his couch after he set out the litter box. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if his mother ever had to deal with things like this, or if she was just smart enough to know better.

 

A minute later, Stiles hopped up onto the couch, climbing on the arm and back until he jumped down onto Derek's stomach. "Do you remember that you're human?" Derek asked, but Stiles didn't seem to understand the question. He hadn't done anything to indicate that he remembered, and seemed like a normal cat to Derek. Stiles sniffed at him, before he stepped off of Derek, and settled next to him in the small space between Derek's stomach and the edge of the couch. Derek watched as Stiles shifted around trying to get comfortable, finally moving onto his side so Stiles had more room. Stiles settled on his side as well, his front paws pressed against Derek's stomach. Then, very slowly Stiles started kneading against his stomach, claws working steadily in and out of the fabric of his shirt. Derek shifted a little more, pushing lightly against Stiles trying to make him kneed lower, against the spot where Derek's shirt covered the top of his jeans. He hoped that since the fabric was thicker, that the claws wouldn't pierce through. It didn't work. Instead, Stiles just looked at his hand for a second and went back to repeatedly stabbing at his flesh with tiny needle-sharp claws. "I'm not getting any softer," Derek said, but Stiles just kept going. Derek sighed, reached down, and started scratching at the side of Stiles' head. He hoped it would make Stiles fall asleep but Stiles just purred and kneaded harder.

 

Lydia called first thing in the morning, startling Derek awake, and making Stiles fire from his stop next to Derek and across the living room. "Good morning," Derek said into the phone.

 

"Good morning. How is Stiles?" she asked.

 

"Hiding under the table," Derek answered, "The phone scared him awake. News?"

 

"Deaton thinks that it might just wear off on its own, since it isn't a really malicious curse, and seems to have been a distraction spell. But, he isn't sure how to transform people like this, so he's going to contact some people to know for sure. In the meantime, he said to keep Stiles inside and make sure he's eating and drinking."

 

"Okay," Derek said, running a hand through his hair.

 

Keeping Stiles inside, turned out to be a fairly easy task. When Derek opened the loft door, Stiles would book it under the couch, and hiss at nothing. If the windows were open, Stiles would perch on the sill and stare outside, but he never tried to leave. They managed to slip into a routine as time went on, Derek getting up and filling the food bowl, Stiles ignoring his own food in favour of trying to steal some of Derek's. If Derek ate cereal, Stiles would inch toward his bowl, and then would suddenly shove his whole face into the bowl. Then he'd run away, covered in milk, but victorious. He'd steal a piece of bacon off Derek's plate, and if he was denied Derek's food for too long, he'd hop onto the counter and tear into the bag of bread until Derek chased him away. It happened three times before Derek started storing the bread in the cupboard with his mugs. All in all, Derek didn't really mind having Stiles around.

 

Sometimes, when Stiles was feeling kinder, and Derek made himself lunch Stiles would stand on his back legs and stretch upwards against the side of Derek's leg. He'd meow and reach toward Derek's hands, begging for whatever food was there. When Derek kept ignoring him, he'd jump onto the counter, and then onto Derek's shoulders. He'd settled there, his tail wrapped around the back of Derek's neck, and taping against one of his shoulders. Derek always broke down and gave Stiles food when he was there, and Stiles liked it there. He sat or lay on Derek's shoulders, as Derek moved around the loft, sometimes hanging his paws on either side of his neck and sleeping. Stiles _talked_ just as much as a cat, as he did as a human. He chirped at random things, purred softly as he slept, and meowed constantly as he walked around the loft. Sometimes, when Derek got home from a run or an errand Stiles would come running down the stairs from Derek's bedroom, meowing loudly like he had to remind Derek that he was there. Like Derek could forget.   

 

John came by two days after the original incident, checking on cat Stiles and then he came every other day after that, to have dinner and check in again. Stiles seemed to recognize his dad on some level, racing to the door each time he arrived, and weaving his way back and forth between John's feet, and meowing up at him. He'd sleep on John lap the whole time he was there, and walk him to the door each time he left. "I'm sorry we don't know more yet," Derek said.

 

"I'm not going to lie, I'm worried," John said, scratching at Stiles' cheek. "But, he seems okay when I'm around... and I trust you to find an answer."

 

"That's a lot of faith in us," Derek said softly.

 

"I have a lot of faith in you, Derek. You haven't let him die yet, and I don't think you will anytime soon," John said. Derek tried to fight the wave of embarrassment that washed over him, but he knew that his face was going red.

 

"I'll try not to let you down," Derek mumbled.

 

The pack came around often as well, stopping by after school or work, to see Stiles wandering the loft. Derek only left him alone with them once, getting back to Stiles dressed in a small Ironman pet costume, and looking furious about it all. Erica was laughing hysterically, as Stiles flipped around with part of the costume in his mouth, trying to pull himself free. "Really?" Derek snapped, dropping the bag of cat food by the door.

 

"He's so cute, Derek!" Erica shouted. "He would be so mad if we didn't do this!" she added. Derek scooped Stiles up off the ground and pulled him free of the costume. His fur stuck out and strange angles and he only let Derek hold him for a second before he wriggled free and ran off.

 

"He doesn't even know what's going on," Derek said sternly.

 

"Oh! No! Derek! Watch this!" Erica said excitedly, grabbing a yellow bag of cat treats off the coffee table. She shook the bag and Stiles fired out of the kitchen and back into the living room. He came to a stop at Erica's feet and stared up at her. She took a treat from the bag and tossed it back toward the kitchen. Derek watched as Stiles meowed loudly, and then fired after the treat as it bounced across the ground. She had a second treat out, and this time tossed it high in the air. Stiles watched the treat for a split second, before he launched himself off the ground, and grabbed the treat out of the air. "Isn't that amazing?" she asked. Derek turned back to them, Kira and Allison were both filming Stiles with their phones, and even though he said nothing, he knew Erica was right. When they turned Stiles back, he was sure that he'd want to know how he acted as a cat.

 

"Cats are amazing hunters," Scott said, sounding really proud.

 

"At least Stiles gets to be amazing at some point in his life," Jackson said, earning a smack to the back of the head from Derek. "Geez, sorry." He didn't leave Stiles alone with them after that.

 

It only took one night for Derek to cave and let Stiles sleep in his bed with him. His original plan was to leave him on the couch downstairs, but Stiles had spent the night howling sadly. The second night, Derek left his bedroom door open, and Stiles slept pressed against his side. Each night after that, Derek would shower, get into his pyjamas, and then get into bed. Stiles would appear a minute later, hopping gracefully onto the bed, and then stood near Derek's shoulder. He would reach out and bat at the covers until Derek lifted his arm and the blanket so that Stiles could slip underneath and curl against him. Derek didn't tell anyone about it, but he did find that he slept better with Stiles at his side. He tried not to look too much into that but often found his mind wandering to those thoughts all the time.

 

It was strange for Derek when he realised that he _missed_ Stiles, even though he was literally only a few feet away. He missed the way Stiles babbled constantly, talking about whatever he had read about last. Sure, Stiles kept meowing, kept announcing that he was there and demanding attention, but the meowing didn't make up for Stiles' lost voice. Some days, Derek thought he was going to go crazy when he caught Stiles' scent a little stronger than normal. Like, when he came home from outside and no one else had been to the loft in a few days. The soft, almost not there, scent lingered in the air and it drove Derek mad. It felt like Stiles had just been there, but Derek could never catch him. Sometimes, when it got to be too much, Derek would find where Stiles was sleeping, press his face against the cat's side and breathe deeply, chasing the scent. Stiles didn't seem to mind, and Derek hoped that Stiles didn't remember when he turned back.

 

He hoped that Stiles didn't remember anything about his time when he turned back. The way Derek let him follow him into the washroom, and let him sit on the edge of the bathtub as he showered. How Derek would sometimes toss the treats across the loft when no one was there, just to watch Stiles fly after them. To see if Stiles would incorrectly judge the distance and crash into walls, or lose his footing on the floors and skid past the treat once it had landed. How Derek would dump way too much catnip on the floor, just to watch Stiles' pupils grow huge as he alternated between rolling through it, and eating piles of it. How he had bought an embarrassing pile of cat toys and spent most of his days watching Stiles chase a laser pointer around. Sometimes, Stiles would look up at him, blinking slowly, with a bit of pink tongue peeking out from between his lips, and Derek would melt. He changed the password on his phone, locking the pack out and away from his ever-growing collection of pictures of the stupid black cat. He hadn't ever thought about getting a pet before because it had always seemed like too much work, but as each day went by, he was suddenly sure that he never wanted to be without one after this.

 

Deaton showed up exactly two months after Stiles had been transformed, followed by a tall Punjabi woman with long black hair. "Derek, this is Karishma, she'll help Stiles," Deaton said.

 

"I'm a dispeller of magic," she explained.

 

"He's over here," Derek said. Karishma followed behind him, stepped past and around him when Stiles came into view on the table. Deaton handed Derek a bag that had some of Stiles clothing inside of it. Karishma reached out and ran her fingers through Stiles fur, he watched her curiously but seemed content to let her pet him.

 

"You've taken very good care of him," she said and smiled at Derek.

 

"He did most of the work," Derek answered and she laughed a little.

 

"His soul is happy here. The spell could wear off by itself, but it could take a long time still. It will be an easy fix; I'll just take a moment." She lifted Stiles off of the table and set him down on the ground beside it. Derek watched as a pulse of green magic came from her palm, and ruffled Stiles fur. His ears twitched back, and another pulse hit him. Then, she rose to her feet and turned back to Derek. "It will take a few hours now. I'm staying with Alan, so if it doesn't take, call us again. I will return and try again."

 

"Any reason it wouldn't take?" Derek asked.

 

"Stubbornness," Karishma answered.

 

"Well then, I look forward to seeing you three to four more times," Derek said. Karishma laughed and turned to look at Stiles again.

 

"As nice as it would be, I think he'll return to his proper shape. Perhaps you should call your pack here so that he is surrounded by his family. Or, perhaps a more intimate reunion is preferred," she said. Derek's felt his face burn with embarrassment, and he had to fight himself from covering his face.

 

"The pack will be very excited to see him," he said, and she kept smiling at him.

 

"Of course," she said. "It was nice meeting you, Derek. Your mother was a wonderful woman, I'm always happy to help a Hale."

 

"Thank you," he said, and then Deaton and Karishma were gone again. Stiles didn't seem any different, but he trusted Deaton to know what was best. So, Derek called the pack to the loft. They put on a movie and Derek promised pizza when Stiles had changed back. They left Stiles to wander around them aimlessly.

 

"He'll be so embarrassed when he turns back," Erica said excitedly.

 

"I don't want to see him naked," Isaac said, watching Stiles carefully.

 

"Then stop staring at him like that," Jackson said, and Isaac went wide-eyed and turned away from him.

 

They were halfway through the original Ghostbusters movie when Stiles turned back. He was, thankfully, hidden behind the island in the kitchen. There was a pop and snap, and a burst of magic that filled the room as Stiles changed back. He shouted, his voice making Derek's heart leap, and then Stiles was peeking up over the edge of the island. "I have a lot of questions right now, but the one I'm gonna start with is, where are my pants?"

 

"It worked!" Erica shouted as Scott tossed the pants to Stiles.

 

"What worked?" Stiles asked.

 

"You were a cat," Scott answered.

 

"I have pictures," Erica said.

 

"What?" Stiles said, coming from around the island. He made grabbing hands at the rest of his clothing.

 

"Pizza?" Jackson asked, turning to look at Derek. "It's the only reason I'm here," he lied.

 

"Sure, I'll order it," Derek said and then left the room. John was there when Derek got back with the pizzas, and no one stopped him from eating two pieces. No one stopped Stiles from eating a whole pizza himself either. Stiles didn't say anything to Derek, just smiled at him, and waved as he left the loft. Derek watched the pack go, slipping out one by one until he was alone. Stiles scent hung in the air, just like when he was a cat, a lingering almost there thing, but now there was nothing he could do about it. The silence of the loft was unsettling, and Derek kept catching himself listening for the soft hammering heartbeat that had belonged to the cat. He had to dump the bowl of cat food back into the bag when he realised that he had filled it for no one out of habit. He didn't sleep that night, finding the silence suffocating, and the idea of being alone suddenly terrifying. He spent the night cleaning the loft, trying to remove the layers of cat hair that had built up.

 

When morning came, he was sitting on the couch scrolling through the Humane Society's website reading about cats. There was an older silver-grey cat that the shelter had listed as a nervous cat. Part of her description said she was soft and loved treats, followed by some silly sounding description of her looking for her fur-ever home. Underneath it all, there was more text explaining that she had been abused, didn't trust easily, and needed to be in a home with no children. The shelter was sure a loving home would bring her out of her shell. Derek thought that the description they gave made it sound like they were trying to sell her to someone looking for a project. Derek wasn't looking for one, but her large eyes caught his attention, and even though Derek felt stupid, he related to her.

 

Stiles arrived suddenly that morning, his jeep pulling up in front of the apartment, sending gravel flying as he went. Derek listened to him take the stairs two at a time, tripping and stumbling over his feet as he climbed. Then the door was open and Stiles lost whatever momentum he had, had a moment before, and just stood there. "Stiles?" Derek asked when he realised Stiles wasn't going to say anything.

 

"Hi," Stiles said, and then smacked himself in the face with his hand.

 

"Do you need something?" he asked. Stiles fidgeted for a few minutes, before he came across the room, and dug a pile of bills out of his pocket. He thrust them out toward Derek; his hand trembling as he did. Derek looked at the bills and then to Stiles' face, and raised an eyebrow at him.

 

"Scott says... you spent a lot of money on me over the last month," Stiles finally said.

 

"I'm not taking your money, Stiles," Derek answered.

 

"But--"

 

"I don't need it, Stiles, if I hadn't wanted to do it, I would have refused," Derek said. Stiles seemed to fight with this but finally returned the money to his pocket. He leant over the back of the couch to snoop at Derek's computer instead.

 

"Looking at cats?" he asked softly.

 

"I am," Derek said.

 

"The pack figured you'd have had enough of them," Stiles said.

 

"I've always had enough of the pack," Derek answered and Stiles laughed.

 

"You and I both know that's a lie, and that I meant cats," Stiles said.

 

"It's too quiet around here now," Derek said, clicking on a picture of a brown cat.

 

"Have a favourite?"

 

"Yeah, a grey one," he answered.

 

"Can I see?" Stiles asked, kicking his shoes off behind the couch and then just climbing over the back so he could sit down. Derek glared at him, but Stiles just ignored it and waited for Derek to pull up the cat. He scrolled back up the page, clicked on the image of the cat, and Stiles cooed at her picture. The cat was stuffed into the box of a cat tree, her face peeking out, with her eyes open wide. She looked scared in all her photos.

 

"She's not really a people cat," Derek said. "So, I don't know if it's a good idea. The pack is pretty rough."

 

"Just Alpha at them, and they'll stop," Stiles said.

 

"I don't want to traumatize a cat," Derek said.

 

"Then... Alpha at them before they come into the loft?"

 

"I'm also worried about her living in the loft... it gets broken into more often than I like to think about," Derek said.

 

"Are you thinking about buying a new house, because of a cat?" Stiles asked. Derek didn't look at him, but all that did was make Stiles burst out laughing.

 

"Not just the cat!" he finally snapped. "I was thinking the pack should have a place to be together." Stiles grinned at him and then rolled his eyes as he settled a little more on the couch.

 

"You're such a soft touch," Stiles said, and then leant closer to the laptop.

 

"Why are you here again?" Derek asked and Stiles lost the grin on his face. He was suddenly embarrassed again, his face heating up, and his scent changing just a little.

 

"Scott told me it's been two months since the witch, and... I kind of have vague memories of being in the loft," Stiles said. Now Derek was worried he was going to blush, and he thought about just launching himself off the couch--laptop be damned--and hiding in the bathroom like the adult he was. "I think--I think I remember you talking to me... but I don't really remember anything. It feels like a dream like I know stuff happened and I know I was there, but I've already forgotten everything that happened."

 

"You just walked around mostly," Derek said, staring at the laptop.

 

"I do remember one thing... I remember being in a bed, under the blankets..." Stiles said, and Derek could see from the corner of his eye, that Stiles was looking at him. "I remember being comfortable and feeling safe. I... I don't know the last time I felt that calm."

 

"I'll see if Deaton knows anyone who could turn you back," Derek said. "I think your dad liked you better that way." Stiles laughed a little, and then looked toward one of the windows. The one that Derek liked to leave open, and Stiles as a cat, had liked to sit.

 

"Did you really spend the last two months taking care of me? Sharing your food? Letting me sleep in your bed with you?" Stiles asked softly. Derek hesitated and then listened to Stiles. His heart was pounding, but Derek thought he just seemed nervous. There was no sour scent that could come with discomfort, hurt or anger.

 

"Yeah," Derek answered, saying it so softly that he wasn't even sure he had actually said it. They were silent for a long few minutes before Stiles turned to look at him again.

 

"Wanna keep doing it?" he asked and Derek felt his heart slam against his ribs.

 

"Only if you promise to stop using the litter box," Derek answered, trying to look serious but couldn't stop the grin that had formed on his face. Stiles laughed brightly, he scrambled to put the laptop on the living room table and then nodded at Derek.

 

"I promise," he said, and then Derek kissed him.

 

"How do you feel about getting an antisocial cat?" Derek mumbled against his lips.

 

"About as good as I feel about my new antisocial boyfriend," Stiles said happily. Derek shoved him back against the couch and kissed him again.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> All behaviours and actions are based on my cat that is called... Stiles, who is also featured above, in his Iron Man outfit.
> 
>  
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://ihaveasoftspotforsatan.tumblr.com/), if you'd like! I'd love requests if you have any!


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